


Sweet Surprise

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, Hogwarts Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-15
Updated: 2007-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-27 10:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10807479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ginny receives an early birthday gift.





	Sweet Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for heron_advocate who prompted Neville/Ginny and mystery when I asked for ficlet prompts.  


* * *

Ginny dabbled her bare toes in the cool green water of the pond, glaring sullenly at the sparkles of sunlight glinting off the surface. It was a perfect day. Of course it would be a perfect day for a wedding; how could anything be less for Fleur’s wedding to her brother?

Looking down at the pink bridesmaid’s gown she wore, Ginny fought the temptation to jump into the pond and ruin the dress. The colour looked horrid on her while making the other bridesmaid, Fleur’s sister Gabrielle, look like an angel. That had to have been the reason why Phlegm had decided on pink, rather than gold. Of course, Gabrielle would have looked exquisite in gold, too. She hadn’t even been able to wear her favourite floral perfume for the occasion. She’d run out the previous week, and it was a custom-made blend. She didn’t even know where she could find more; the bottle had arrived by owlpost in time for her birthday last year, with no note attached.

Even worse, Harry hadn’t said more than two words to her since his arrival at the Burrow shortly after his seventeenth birthday. He was always with Ron and Hermione, their voices falling silent whenever she came near before starting up again with a transparently different topic of conversation. She’d overheard enough to know they were planning _something_ that didn’t include her, as usual; and it galled.

She didn’t look around at the sound of footsteps on the pier behind her. She knew the steps didn’t belong to her mother; she would have heard Molly Weasley coming the moment she caught sight of her daughter, railing about propriety and manners and how dare she disappear from her own brother’s wedding reception like that without telling anyone?

They probably didn’t belong to Dad either, for the same reasons. He was probably still by Mum’s side, talking with the guests, possibly dancing with his new daughter-in-law. A small part of her hoped that it was Harry, come to look for her after noticing her absence; but following their break-up after Dumbledore’s funeral he’d ignored her, as if she no longer existed.

The footsteps behind her stopped, replaced by a kind of shuffling sound. A shadow fell across Ginny’s shoulder and she finally looked up, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

“Oh. Hi, Neville.”

Neville blinked at the marked lack of enthusiasm in her tone before mustering an uncertain smile. “I can go away if you want to be alone…” he began.

“No, no, it’s all right.” Ginny budged over so he could join her. “I just had to escape for a little bit.”

“Me too.” Neville removed his dress shoes and socks and sat down beside her, dipping his own toes into the water with a sigh. “Crowds make me nervous.”

Lots of things made Neville nervous, Ginny thought uncharitably, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. It was sometimes difficult to believe that the same person who blushed and stammered whenever asked a direct question had also faced Death Eaters without blinking an eye. However, his presence was quiet and soothing, and she couldn’t deny that he had never been anything less than friendly and open with her, unlike a certain someone she knew who was probably whispering with Ron and Hermione this very instant.

They sat there in companionable silence for awhile. Ginny appreciated Neville’s apparent lack of desire to fill the empty spaces with equally empty words. She still felt disgruntled, but not nearly as much as she had just a short while ago, before he’d arrived.

“Lovely day for a wedding,” Neville said finally, looking around him. “Gran and I don’t go to many weddings. I think the last one I went to was for a cousin when I was twelve.”

“That’s nice,” Ginny said, not sure whether or not she preferred the quiet.

“You made a pretty bridesmaid,” Neville said, still looking anywhere but at Ginny.

She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re either lying or colourblind,” she said. “I had to wear _pink_. I look horrid in pink.”

“I didn’t think so.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Maybe pink isn’t your colour, but your hair was pretty, especially with the flowers woven in like that.”

Now it was Ginny’s turn to blush. He had to be lying, but she couldn’t deny it was very sweet of him to say so. “Thanks,” she murmured.

Neville smiled, pleased. Looking over his shoulder, he sighed and reached for his shoes and socks. “I should probably get back before Gran wonders where I am. I was…” He took a deep breath. “I was hoping I could catch a moment alone with you.”

“Oh?” Ginny looked up from her toes splashing the water, her interest piqued. “Why?”

Reaching into his pocket, Neville pulled out a small package. “I – I know your birthday is coming up soon, and I probably won’t see you again until school starts again, and I figured this might be the only chance I’d have, and…” He paused, as if realising he was saying more than Ginny probably wanted or needed to know, and thrust the package toward her. “Happy early birthday, Ginny.”

“Neville, you didn’t have to!” Ginny exclaimed even as she untied the ribbon. “I didn’t get you anything for your birthday.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, concentrating on retying one shoe.

The wrapping paper fell away, revealing a small bottle filled with clear golden liquid. Ginny opened it, already knowing what the bottle held even as a delicate floral fragrance wafted to her nose, reminding her of fields of wildflowers.

“Neville, where did you find this?” she asked in amazement. “I had a bottle last year and ran out, and I had no idea where to find more. I mean, there wasn’t even a label…” Ginny looked down at the bottle, which, like its predecessor, was unlabelled; and realisation struck. “You _made_ this?”

He nodded, still concentrating on his shoe. “It’s not that difficult,” he demurred. “It’s just a matter of adding flower petals to a carrier oil to steep and then straining. The oil absorbs the scent. It’s not fancy perfumery, but it’s one of a kind.” He looked up, dark eyes solemn. “Like you.”

Stunned speechless, Ginny watched as Neville got to his feet, hands smoothing over his dress robes. There were damp patches in two places, as though he’d wiped sweaty palms over the fabric more than once today. He probably had.

“I’d best get back,” Neville said, tilting his head toward the Burrow and the faint sounds of revelry. “Happy birthday again.”

“Neville, wait.” Ginny reached for her sandals and slipped them on. “I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to.” Quickly, Ginny dabbed some of the fragrance behind her ears before replacing the cork and slipping it into her pocket. Getting to her feet, she reached up and kissed Neville’s cheek, smiling when his cheeks reddened. “Thank you for the perfume,” she said softly, looking into his eyes. “I love it.”

Slipping her arm through his, she began walking back to the reception, feeling cheered for some odd reason.

“I’ll probably be in Diagon Alley next week to pick up school supplies,” Ginny said, smiling up at Neville. “Maybe we could meet for ice cream?”


End file.
